What Might Be
by Lesera128
Summary: Brennan never figured out if the vision of her mother that she once had on the night before she took a plane to Maluku was a hallucination or something of a more inexplicable in nature. Years later, the second time it happens, she's still skeptical, but a bit more prepared for her visitor than she once had been. A companion piece to "Often Quoted Quotes." AU. One-shot. Complete.


What Might Be

By: Lesera128

Rated: K+

Disclaimer: stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Brennan never figured out if the vision of her mother was a hallucination or something more inexplicable in nature. Years later, the second time it happens, she's still skeptical, but a bit more prepared. A companion piece to "Often Quoted Quotes." AU. One-shot. Complete.

A/N: This piece is a companion piece to the series that I wrote that began with the story "Often Quoted Quotes Quoted One More Time." One year ago today, I posted the first piece of that story as a prologue and began my long and wordy swim through the world of Bones fan fic. Over a million words and some thirty to forty plus solo and co-authored pieces later, I wanted to share this little bit as a commemoration of that anniversary. The piece is set sometime in the not too distant future after the storylines present in the timeline of stories listed in that series have already transpired. Enjoy.~

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Quote: "Remember, you were loved in this world―cherished."

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The more things changed in her life, the more they appeared to have stayed the same.

In some ways, the setting was almost identical to the way it had been the last time that it had happened. She was sitting in the very same rocking chair that still sat by the very same window in the room that still served as their loft's nursery. The walls of the nursery were still painted a deep royal purple while a white crib still dominated the far wall. The crib was not quite as pristine as it once had been, given it's frequent use over the years, but it was still in fairly good condition. It's original occupant now resided in her older half-brother's now vacant room since Parker had left for college in Philadelphia a few months earlier. The current resident of the nursery was asleep, and it was because of him that the accent furniture and toys had been gradually replaced to reflect the fact that the nursery was now occupied by a little boy and not a little girl. Also, unlike the last time it had happened, the window wasn't open since the stifling heat of an unusually warm spring in D.C. had necessitated her closing the windows and lowering the A/C. Still, she was rocking in much the same way when a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Tilting her head, Dr. Temperance Brennan couldn't help but smile when she saw a familiar face seemingly appear out of nowhere.

"I'm still pretty certain that I don't believe in prophetic dreams or visions."

The one-sentence reply was eerie in its similarity to the way a similar conversation had begun more than several years earlier. However, it was still subtly different enough in it's own way that it revealed to the visitor that the woman who spoke those words this time wasn't the same person she'd been when she'd first made such a claim.

Smiling, and fairly pleased with the progress that Brennan had made, the still gentle teasing nature in the visitor's voice was present as she responded, "So, I guess that might or might not rule out that you're either sleeping again or actually have developed some magic powers that have allowed you to fall into a shaman-like trance?"

"I have no idea," came the almost instant, if tired, response. "But, I can say that you just said absolutely nothing of value with that last question."

For a minute, the visitor's lips pursed as she considered the slight level of annoyance that seemed to inhabit Brennan's voice. Then, taking stock of the fact that her daughter was just coming out of that part of her pregnancy where she wasn't emotionally and physically exhausted all the time, she swallowed the quick rejoinder that had been on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she slightly clucked her tongue as she answered, "Remember, Tempe…patience. It's always a good thing to pray for more patience. You can never have enough of it, you know?"

Pursing her lips together, Brennan shifted uncomfortably in the rocking chair as she said, "While I can admit that I have no evidence that either supports or contradicts the existence of some type of supernatural world of spirits or any type of an afterlife, I haven't changed quite so much since last we spoke that I've started praying. I leave that to Booth these days."

"Hmmm," the visitor chuckled. "So, I see that you're still you're father's daughter."

"Meaning?" Brennan blinked at the familiar looking woman, whose dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that she hadn't seen in quite some time still made her more happy than she'd probably admit.

"Meaning," Christine Brennan answered. "You've come a long way, baby girl. The last time I checked in, you'd just made it to the point where you were only grudgingly willing to admit that you needed to have some faith that you didn't know everything about everything or that there might not be some surprises left in this world for you." She paused, tilted her head at Brennan, and then chuckled, "Like I told you before, the same thing happened to your father, once upon a time. By the end, I had Max conceding to me that at the very least rational thought should acknowledge that his assumptions might be wrong. Of course, that took me a lot more years to achieve with him than it appears it took Booth to reach that point with you, but that may just be because Max is more stubborn than you are."

Considering her words for a minute, Brennan then replied, "Oh, I don't know. I think I can still be a little stubborn when I want to be. At least, that's what Booth would say. But―"

"But, being a wife and a mother takes a lot out of you," Christine said, finishing her daughter's thought. She took a step closer to the white wooden crib, and gently rested her hand on the railing as she looked down inside to view its precious contents. "Especially when you're children are at least as smart as you are, if not smarter."

It took Brennan a moment to lift her ungainly form out of the rocking chair. She was much slower these days, as her body continued to change as the months of her most recent pregnancy progressed. Still, prior experience had made her more skilled at maneuvering her body when it was going through the process of gestation than she'd once been. Slowly, but surely, she padded over to the crib and smiled as she looked down at the still sleeping occupant who rested within its confines.

Nodding her head down at the sleeping infant, Brennan said, "On some days, I do think they're smarter than me, and I can't tell you how scary that is."

Christine quirked an eyebrow at her daughter as she said dryly, "Oh, really? You sure about that, Tempe?"

Immediately, a sheepish look crossed Brennan's face as she said, "For a while, I thought…well, your namesake." Brennan gestured with her head to the wall in front of them. "She's sleeping in the next room, by the by. But, just between you and me, I once thought that I'd get out of her toddler years without developing some type of mental deficiency, a chemical imbalance, or having some type of breakdown altogether." She paused and nodded at the baby, "He's still so little, but so far he doesn't seem to challenge me the same way Christine does."

"He's only six months old," her mother observed. "Give him time."

Brennan frowned at her mother's comment and then asked, "Is this your way of trying to tell me something?"

Smiling, the elder Christine Brennan shook her head as she said, "Who me? The hallucination/dream? Nope, never." She paused and then said, "All things considered, though, I do think you're right. Joe is going to be the least hellacious of the terrible trio you've concocted here."

Christine loving looked down at the sleeping baby as she noted the dark brown hair looked less like her granddaughter's had at the same age. "I think he looks more like his father's side of the family than ours."

Brennan thought about her mother's observation for a minute, and then when she recalled how the baby's soft brown eyes reminded her of her husband's in more ways then one, she nodded. "Yes, I concur. Joseph…he seems to take after Booth's family more than mine. But, I think, in a way, that's balanced, since Christine is so…"

"Much like you were when you were that age?" her mother laughed.

Unable to help herself, Brennan nodded with a smile. "Yes, something like that," she answered. The forensic anthropologist stared at the baby for a minute, a feeling of love sweeping over her as she looked down at him. "You know, I went through a lot of work to get him," she finally said.

"I know, baby girl," her mother answered. "You may not always believe it, but I'm never that far from you all. I keep in touch more than you might think."

Tilting her head, Brennan looked away from her son to her mother as she said, "After everything that happened with him, I always thought, you know…that's he'd be, well, of a more volatile temperament than he's turned out to be thus far. Now, I know that his personality will change as he gets older, but―"

"He might change," Christine cut in, interrupting her daughter. "Then again, think about how Chrissy was when she was that age. She hasn't changed all that much."

"No," Brennan agreed. "Not a bit."

"And," Christine continued. "Come to think of it, neither did you or Russ."

"So, what then?" Brennan asked, as she tucked her hands on her hips. "Is this your way of telling me that my son is some strange foundling since I can't determine where he might have inherited such a laid back personality from? Because, Booth and I are many things, but I certainly wouldn't describe either one of us as relaxed or overtly laid back."

"You're grandfather was a quiet man," Christine said thoughtfully. "I know you'd have no way of knowing that since you never knew my father. But, Russ actually reminds me a lot of him. Maybe Joe is going to be like my dad and his uncle."

"Hmmm," Brennan said thoughtfully. "I wonder how Booth will take to that possibility since I already know he's hoping that Joseph will be the one to go into law enforcement one day since he feels he's already lost Parker to what he calls 'the curse of squintdom.'"

Laughing, Christine said, "No, I don't think so. Although, Booth should be proud of Parker graduating earlier and getting accepting to the University of Pennsylvania like that. A full academic scholarship in a field like physics isn't any to sneeze at." She paused her laughter fading away as she shook her head, and then continued, "No, I don't think Joe is going to make a good cop or FBI agent. Probably not at all, actually. But, once Booth gets over the fact that he chooses to accept an appointment to the Air Force Academy, I think you'll both be proud of the officer he becomes."

Tilting her head, Brennan looked suspiciously at her mother as she said, "An officer, huh?"

"An officer…and a damn good pilot," Christine nodded. She stopped, and then pointed vaguely in the direction of Brennan's slightly swollen belly. "That one there, I think, is your FBI agent. Matt's going to be more piss and vinegar than he should, but like his father, I think that will eventually help temper him in the field."

"Matt?" Brennan inquired with an arched eye.

Christine shrugged her shoulders.

After a minute, Brennan was quiet and then said, "So, is there anything else you'd like to toss out for me to complete this little rendition of Ebenezer being visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present?"

More than a slight bit of surprised colored Christine's face as she looked at her daughter in clear disbelief that was written all over her face.

"What?" Brennan asked, blinking in response to her mother's surprise.

"Tempe," Christine said. "Did you…did you just make a sarcastic comment using an allusion to pop culture?"

"Nineteenth century pop literary culture?" Brennan specified. "Then, yes, I did. I find it amuses me when I can do that since Booth has said many times over the years that I have a relatively infantile knowledge of such matters. Every so often, I like to prove him wrong just so I can keep him on his toes."

Smiling at her, Christine shook her head, as she said, "And, you wonder why Chrissy gives you such problems, Tempe. Did you ever think that she might be the universe's way of karmically balancing all the psychic rewards you reap from needling Booth?"

Brennan thought about her mother's question and then frowned. "Oh, God. In that case, don't tell me if something horrible is going to happen to her. Because I think I've been doing that to Booth for so many years that it probably means that Christine will become something like a psychologist or some a member of some other such pseudo-empirical field of laughable quackery."

When her mother didn't say anything, but Brennan saw her biting her bottom lip to keep from saying anything, she couldn't help but groan.

"Mom," Brennan groaned. "Tell me my daughter doesn't grow up to be a psychologist."

Shaking her head, Christine looked down at her sleeping grandson as she said, "I don't think you'd ever let any child of yours get away with something like that, Tempe. Not without hell freezing over first."

"Oh, thank God," Brennan suddenly muttered, her tense shoulders relaxing somewhat in relief she felt at the prospect that her daughter wouldn't one day grow up to be a psychologist.

"But," Christine couldn't help herself, as she looked at Brennan with a gleeful glint of mischief in her eyes. "If I were you, I'd keep an eye on how much time she spends with Lance Sweets."

"I knew it," Brennan suddenly muttered as her hands fell to her side. She clenched them as she shook her head in displeasure. "I knew it wasn't a coincidence that Christine keeps sneaking away when she's with me at the lab or with Booth at the Hoover and goes looking for Sweets. At first, I thought she was doing it just to piss me off, but now…"

"But, now," Christine laughed, enjoying watching her daughter's frazzled state. "But, now, like I said, I'd just be careful how much time she spends with him, because, eventually, he's going to be able to write one hell of a letter of recommendation. Such a letter, I'm sure I don't need to tell you, would go quite a long way with an admissions committee at a place like Johns Hopkins. Especially if she was ever to get it into her head that to appease you, and to make herself happy, she'd find the best of both worlds by going to med school to become a psychiatrist."

She blanched at her mother's words and then said, "Are you telling me that my daughter is going to become a psychiatrist?"

Still smiling at Brennan, Christine shook her head, "You didn't hear it from me, baby girl. After all, I'm just a dream or a hallucination, remember? Who says what I've just told you is any more real than that anyway?"

Brennan considered her mother's point and then nodded, "That's quite true."

The two women held each other's eyes for a long time before, Christine said, "You know, baby girl, I can tell you one thing…even though I think you may already know it."

"Oh?" Brennan responded. "And, what's that?"

"It goes by so quickly, Tempe," Christine said. "So fast. And, I think...no, I know you already know that. But, just don't forget it, okay? I think, if there's one mistake I made, it wasn't realizing how fast it goes by. So…take each day as it comes. Have patience―whether you're the one praying for it, or Booth is. Love them…and enjoy them. Because, before you know it, things can change in the blink of an eye."

Thinking about how, just a few months earlier, Brennan had discovered that fact for the second time in her life when she found out she was unexpectedly pregnant, she nodded. "I know, Mom. And, believe it or not, I am trying. I'm trying to do my best. I promise."

Looking back at her daughter, Christine nodded, "I know, Tempe. And, that's all you can do. That's all anyone can do."

Suddenly, a burst of movement in the bottom of the crib caught Brennan's attention. Looking down, she saw that something had caused her son to wake up from his mid-afternoon nap. She was just about to reach down and pick up the baby so that her mother could see him more closely now that he was awake when she turned around, and so once again, that her mother was gone.

Shaking her head in regret, Brennan picked up the fussing baby and carried him back to the rocking. Sitting down, she cradled the infant against her chest, nuzzling the soft wisps of silky brown fuzz that covered his head and already reminded her so much of her husband's hair. Rubbing her cheek against his head, she smiled as she realized that her mother was right. She could only take things one day at a time, try her best, and enjoy her life as she could since time did pass by so quickly.

"But," Brennan amended. "Even if it passes quickly, I think, it always passes for the better. Definitely for the better."

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~The End~

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Author's Note - continued - So, is this a glimpse of the future or not? I leave it up to the individual readers to decide. I know I still have a few steadfast readers waiting for an update to "More from Brennan's Journal." I haven't forgotten nor abandoned that story. I'd love to give an ETA as to when it might be forthcoming, but I honestly don't know. I can tell you that I did start to write it, so that's something, right? Anyway, thanks for reading. As ever, I very much appreciate it.~


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